“Well that’s it then,” Hagrid spoke into the emptiness of his cottage. The fire had faded to a few glowing embers, and the air of adventure that filled the place as Harry and Hermione left on their special mission had faded as well.

"Norbert’s goin’ to a better place, no doubt,” he told himself, reaching for his well worn kettle. A cup of tea would help ease the loss, and the activity would force the giant’s mind to different places. At least that was the plan. But Hagrid’s eyes kept straying to his table, where the baby dragon had hatched. Even when he looked away, he managed to see some little bit of the paraphernalia that went with dragon keeping. Brandy bottles were still stacked in a corner, not to mention the rat crates. Scorch blackened walls and scratched up floor planking marked Norbert’s favorite places in the hut. Hagrid knew that eventually he would look on these things with fondness, but for now the pain was a bit too fresh for reminiscing. Setting the kettle down amongst the ashes of his fire, he left it to warm and went outside. The night air was brisk, just what he needed to clear his thoughts.

“Dragons like Norbert are better off with their own kind,” he reminded himself, sitting down on his top step. “Charlie Weasley’ll train him up right. He’s a good sort, an’ all.” Fang the boarhound thumped his tail at Hagrid’s voice, but only just barely. It was still bandaged from the dog’s last encounter with the almost-departed dragon. “The place’ll seem a bit empty for awhile, though. No doubt about that.” The giant looked up into the night sky, wondering just how far Harry and Hermione had gotten. They should be close to the top of the tower by now. Then Norbert would be placed in someone else’s care. “I hope he doesn’t pine fer his mommy,” Hagrid muttered, tears beginning to roll. At least here in the dark he was able to allow himself a few moments of grief. He couldn’t explain his love for the dragon to anybody. Who else but he himself could love such a beast? The others who had known about Norbert had never understood. They knew that he had dreamt of having a dragon of his own, but they didn’t know how deep the longing had gone. They hadn’t felt the delight he’d known upon bringing the fiery egg home to his cottage, nor the nurturing emotions that had risen in him as he’d fed the hatchling it’s brandy and chicken blood. He alone had done his best for Norbert. He alone had given the dragon his heart.

Fang woofed softly at Hagrid’s feet, his nose pointed to the sky.

“That’ll be Charlie’s friends from Romania,” Hagrid whispered, patting the dog‘s big head. He wiped his eyes with a coat sleeve so he could see better, but soon they were blocked from view by the tower. “Take good care of him,” he spoke toward the sky.

Grunting softly, Hagrid stood up, still staring skyward till he saw four dark forms on broomsticks rise above the castle’s shadow. The crate lashed between them had to be Norbert. They rose, silhouetted against the moon for a split second, then they were gone, headed toward the stars and Romania.

“May the fates be kind to ya, Norbert.” Hagrid spoke softly into the wind. “Don’t forget your mommy, now.” He turned to go inside, but stopped to take one last look upward, toward where part of his heart had disappeared. He raised a hand toward the stars sheepishly, knowing they’d remind him of the baby dragon from now on.

“Goodbye little friend.”

He stepped inside his cottage and closed the door. Tomorrow he’d clean up the mess left by the dragon. Tonight, he’d drink his tea and cry his tears.